All Kinds of Bossy
November 18th, 2011
Miss Mouse has adored her baby brother since the moment we brought him home. Thank goodness. I’m not quite sure how I would have handled any requests to return him to whatever cabbage patch he came from. No, if anything, my son is most at risk from death by excessive love. She hugs, she squeezes, she sits on him and bounces affectionately.
Lately, she’s working on honing her maternal instincts. She’s decided that she needs to take care of her little brother, keep him on the straight and narrow.
In short, she’s morphed into the most bossy three-year-old tyrant you’ve ever seen.
“Buggie,” she snaps. “I’ve told you three times to stop taking my toys. I told you! Uh oh. I’m sorry. Now I have to take this toy and put it away.“
Or she’ll pull out that great motherly line that I fear she learned from me — “Buggie, I’m going to count to three...”
She’s also taken to following him around the room, preventing him for engaging in any unsafe behaviors. Like climbing stairs. Or pulling books off the shelf. Or walking. Unfortunately for Buggie, her most common rescue maneuver is to grab him around the neck and pull him down to the floor.
But her mom moves have a sweet side, too. When Buggie cries, big sister is at his side in a flash. “It’s okay, baby brother,” she coos as she chokes him with enthusiastic hugs, “Big sister is here.”
It’s pretty awesome.